Never Bet On Red
by Sleepy Lotus
Summary: My take on the March Maxim issue, in response to zionangel's prompt: “March and I had a scheduling conflict.” By that, he of course means that March had too much self-respect to sleep with a womanizing, playboy man-whore. Pep on the cover? T/P


**Never Bet On Red**

By: Sleepy Lotus

Rating: PG 13, I guess.

Summary: My take on the March Maxim issue, via zionangel's plot bunny prompt: "March and I had a scheduling conflict." By that, he of course means that March had too much self-respect to sleep with a womanizing, playboy man-whore. Pepper Pots is given an offer she can't quite refuse. T/P

A/N: This is pre-Afganistan, Tony is his full-blown playboy self.f

Pepper couldn't help but feel her life was a movie reel, playing the same few scenes over and over indefinitely. Every day seemed to be filled with the same, sunrise to sunset. Phone calls, appointments, emails, press conferences. Chasing after Tony with papers to sign.

Chasing after Tony to attend a board meeting.

Chasing after Tony's trash in the morning, bundling her out to the waiting car outside.f

Chasing after Tony to change into his tux on time for whichever event for whatever cause, and making sure he didn't disappear with the _conquest du jour_ before saying a few choice bullshit words about the importance of digging into deep pockets for the starving children of wherever.

But at that moment, Pepper was not chasing. This was a different part of her life, yet still as invariable as the rest. Pepper was watching and waiting. With weary blue eyes, Pepper watched Tony Stark in a sea of tanned and dyed West Coast beauties, infecting the circle with his irresistible charm, that rogue smile and black eyes glittering with a _joie de vivre _matched by none. Pepper was certain one or several of them would be awaiting her services in the morning. Fresh pressed clothes, and a polite _get the hell out _smile.

Always, Pepper watched this part of her boss's life, but never was she apart of it. And as well she shouldn't be, she quickly scolded herself. Tony flirted throughout their day, barely innocent quips and innuendos met with her witty but consistent rejections. It was as things had to be. This was business. This was life.

Pepper couldn't lie, she liked her job. She enjoyed the challenge, of corralling Tony, managing his hectic life, sparring with him. Being with him, laughing with him. The man moved through life like a hurricane, catching up anything and everything in his wake that could not resist the force that was Tony Stark. Somehow, she managed to stand her ground. Like a tree that had weathered many storms, she could bend when she needed to, but still keep her roots firmly planted in the ground. Indeed, in Pepper Potts Stark may very well have met his match.

It was only at the end of the day, when Ms. Potts returned home to her immaculate flat, that she sometimes regretted the lines she drew between business and pleasure. As she would sit in her armchair with a cup of tea and a favorite book, the silence of the empty space would settle down upon her. After the chaos of experiencing Tony's presence throughout the day, her nights at times seemed so very _alone_.

Annoyed, she would always shake it off, concentrating two fold on her book. It had nothing to do with his smile, she would tell herself, that rogue curl of lips that could melt a woman into pliant putty. It had nothing to do with his eyes, the color of rich dark chocolate warming over a flame. It had nothing to do with his voice, his hands, his impeccable taste, the way his slacks fit his derriere, or the way he teased her incessantly.

It had everything and nothing to do with all this. It was his _energy_, pure and simple. It filled her to the brim with something indescribable, and she couldn't help but want to be apart of it for more than just the working hours of the day.

But Pepper was difficult to please. Picky. Particular. Tony Stark divided his life between two parts, the day and the night. And neither did Pepper only want to be apart of his nocturnal activities, liaisons that rarely lasted past the early hours of the morning. She could not stoop to that, her self respect wouldn't allow it. Pepper wanted the impossible. Pepper wanted both. She wanted all. She wanted a part of Tony Stark the man never gave to anyone. And she knew she could not have it, and so she resigned herself to business as usual, wishing for a martini but settling for champagne as she sat alone.

"Now this has got to be the crime of the century."

Startled out of her brown study, Pepper turned to find a newcomer taking the high stool beside hers, scotch on the rocks in hand. He flashed a confident smile, that smacked of the same swagger her own boss wore like a suit of armor. Pepper recognized Bernard Townsend, good friend of Tony Stark, and editor in chief of Maxim magazine.

"Has there been a crime?" she enquired, lips turning up in a tired smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

Taking her hand, Bernard brushed his lips across her knuckles in a suavely outdated gesture Pepper knew most women would positively melt for. That is, ff they didn't already melt for his ridiculous good looks, chiseled jaw, blazing green eyes. "Indeed there has. You sitting here in that amazing dress, all by your onesies? A crime of the highest order, my dear."

Pepper laughed lightly, contemplating what exactly Bernard could possibly want, and how she planned to escape without making a scene. It was not beyond her ego to know she looked lovely in the dress she wore, a slinky number the color of fresh spring leaves. Her red hair cascaded down her back, loosely curled in soft whorls several men in the room would have killed to run fingers through. "Well, I'm not exactly here to enjoy myself, Mr. Townsend. I am still on duty."

With a wry smile Bernard tossed a glance in Tony's direction. "He really is a dummy, isn't he? Were _I_ your duty, I would make sure to remain as _close_ as possible at _all_ times."

"I'm sure," replied Pepper with an eye roll.

"I kid you not," he insisted, taking a sip of scotch. Continuing on the subject of Tony, Bernard dropped, "He's got two of our cover models over there from last year. July, and September. They're going to be in some chick flick or something together coming up for Valentine's Day. He pretends to be interested like a champ."

Pepper took a sip of champagne, quirking an amused eyebrow. "They never stood a chance, did they?"

"Probably not." Bernard's eyes sliding up and down her form in a once-over did not escape Pepper's notice. "But not everyone has class like you, Ms. Potts. You should be on our cover sometime. We like to do a smart issue once in a while."

Pepper resisted the temptation to roll her eyes once again at this man's shameless flattery. "What on earth would you do with me on the cover of Maxim magazine?" she snarked. "The very thought is ridiculous."

Bertrand paid her a long stern look, as though there were a very important aspect of the conversation she was blatantly missing. "Actually, it's not that ridiculous at all. In case you haven't noticed, Ms. Potts, you're fucking gorgeous. In fact, I think it might be a brilliant idea." With a smile that somewhat resembled a baring of teeth, the editor pounced on his blackberry, scrolling through messages and appointments. "Pepper, we still have a cancellation for March. You have to be our cover girl. I've just now decided. I won't take no for an answer."

Immediately, Pepper flatly responded, "No."

"Wrong answer," Betrand sang out, swirling his scotch in his glass. There was a sudden light about the man, and Pepper recognized the rush of creative zeal gleaming in his eyes. It was very similar to a look another certain someone she knew quite well, filled with determination. Luckily, Pepper had built up quite an immunity to dealing with such men.

"No," she said again. "It wouldn't make any sense. I'm not an artist of any sort, I have no need to promote myself. I'm a personal assistant, and quite content with what I'm doing."

"Are you?" asked Bertrand disbelievingly. "Day in day out, riding Tony's ass, keeping track of paperwork? Come on. This could be the most exciting thing you do all year."

"Do you _know _who I work for? My life is filled with more sporadic excitement than I can nearly handle."

"Yeah, but this is different. That's _his _excitement. _This _would belong to _you_."

Pepper paused with the thought, and Bertrand's grin widened as he saw he might be gaining ground. "People are curious about you, Pepper. The _great _Pepper Potts, the woman behind Tony Stark who keeps him in line. It would be a great piece of journalism. Completely tasteful."

"You mean your demographic actually _reads _the articles?"

"Just because _Tony _is only interested in the pictures doesn't mean _everyone _is so narrow minded."

Just at that moment, Tony started for the door, July on one arm, September on the other. Pepper watched them go, and a sudden incontrollable feeling of solitude settled upon her, of which she resented herself for even entertaining. She could suddenly feel the monotony of life weighing down upon her narrow shoulders, knowing exactly what the next morning would hold for her. Watching out the corner of his eye, Bertrand noticed Pepper's impeccable posture slump every so slightly, a barely detectible sign of her disappointment.

Pepper could hardly believe the next words that slipped out from between her lips. It was a quick decision, spur of the moment, completely spontaneous, emotionally driven, and entirely opposite of her usual careful deliberation.

"Alright, Bertrand. You've got yourself a cover."

The photo shoot went well. Perhaps even better than she'd hoped. Pepper had been photographed for business and news magazines before, but never anything near the sexy aesthetic of Maxim. The photographer worked with a degree of professionalism she responded to, standing unmoved when she removed her shirt, leaving her in just the black bra, pencil skirt and ever-present stiletto heels. She felt entirely comfortable as he turned her head this way and that with two fingers, teasing her hair to create just the shot he wanted, and clicked the camera from all angles around her.

It wasn't until it was all over that he actually spoke to her in a context outside of capturing the photos. "These are great, Ms. Potts," he said, flipping through the images displayed on the screen of his digital SLR. "Man, but I bet Tony Stark won't be happy about losing the bet."

Confused, Pepper raised two golden red eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

With a sheepish expression, the photographer snapped his mouth shut. "Ah...maybe not? Sorry, what you two do is your business, none of mine."

Still not following, Ms. Potts crossed her arms. "Mr. Stark is my employer and nothing more, Mr. Dansworth. What are you talking about?"

The photographer's expression shifted to panic. "Oh. You mean the bet? You didn't know?"

"What bet?" Pepper demanded crisply, in a tone that brooked no option to clam.

With a sigh, Mr. Dansworth surrendered without a fight. "Stark bet Mr. Townsend that he can...er...sleep with every Maxim cover model this year. He was doing well thus far with January and February, but I just assumed that with March being his personal assistant the bet would be off, as you seem a very professional woman, and..."

"Thank you, Mr. Dansworth, that's all I need to know," snapped Pepper, sliding her purse upon her shoulder. The executive _clack_ _clack_ of her footsteps punctuated her escape from the studio, and Ms. Potts couldn't help but feel that in some way she'd been manipulated.

Though she did not feel ashamed of what she'd done, Pepper awaited the March issue to hit the newsstands with a certain ambivalence. On the day of its availability she made sure to have thought of a quick and cutting reply for anything she could possibly anticipate Tony Stark throwing her way. Needless to say, the quiver filled with sharp wit in the back of her mind sat plump to bursting with potential arrows of defense.

And so it was the day after the release of the March issue of Maxim that Tony made his way into her office, cup of coffee in hand. She recognized his demeanor immediately; the man was practically squirming with the need to stir something up. In these moods she was usually the closest victim on hand for the intended torment, and she'd learned to recognize the signs.

Glancing up from her keyboard, Pepper found Tony leaning a hip against the edge of her desk, lips curled in a smug and knowing grin. She wanted to wipe it off his face with a slap or a kiss. As always, it was difficult to choose which, but luckily the love of her job prevented the necessity for an exact course of action. "Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"I must say, Ms. Potts, the cover of Maxim this month was just delicious. Have you seen it yet?"

With an eye roll Pepper turned back to her keyboard, pretending to continue her work, though the sudden stress that knotted her stomach prevented her from focusing completely on her monitor. "Don't even think about it."

Blinking with a feigned innocence, Tony pressed long fingers to his chest. "Moi? What do you mean?"

"I already know about your bet with Bernard Townsend, and I'm afraid you're just going to have to lose this year." She braved a glance up at her employer, to find his intense dark eyes staring her down quite intently.

"Oh, I see," he said playfully. "You're afraid I came in here to seduce you because of some silly bet..."

"The thought had crossed my mind," said Pepper, pretending to type something on the computer. In a stream of conscious bout, she tapped out _holy shit tony stark said me delicious damn magazine Bernard. _With a shrug, Tony made to exit the office. "Don't worry, Pep," he said casually, fingertips on the door handle. Finally she looked up long enough to truly meet his eyes, and suddenly couldn't help but feel as though she were drowning in them. "When we finally _do _consummate this unspoken _thing _that hovers between us in the air like a lightning storm, it's going to be because you simply can't keep your hands off me any longer. Not to settle some silly bet."

He smiled, and it was infuriating and damning and absolutely brilliant. Tony slipped out of the room with a bounce in his step, whistling some unidentifiable tune, the very picture of boyish nonchalance. Before he disappeared completely from sight of the glass façade of her office, he saluted his assistant with his coffee cup and a wink. It was only as he turned the corner, certain she could not hear, that he muttered with some amusement, _never bet on red._

Pepper waited thirty-seconds to be sure Tony had truly gone, before completely collapsing back in her chair, pressing her palms to her temples, mouth open in a silent scream. _What the fuck just happened? _Quickly, she returned back to her usual posture, the only evidence of a breach in her usually impeccable carriage lay in the corner of her mouth, curled up with a smug pleasure of her own. Quite possibly, something _very good _just happened.

At the very least, it was something _hers_.

That March Tony Stark found himself faced with a very unique dilemma. What vertical surface remained in his house that would not at sometime fall under the scrutiny of his assistant, the thorough and versatile Ms. Pepper Potts? No where in his kitchen, living room, or even his very own bedroom fit the bill.

Finally, he found the answer, tucked away in a corner of his workshop. It was a small closet filled to bursting with spare parts, and most likely nothing that would ever be of interest or need to Pepper. On the inside facet of the door Tony drove a nail, hanging a weighty frame upon it, straightening the edges. Stepping back, he admired his handy work, feeling satisfied and sneaky in a mischievous way that always pleased him.

Cached away behind glass and within professional framing, Pepper Potts, Maxim cover model, stared out with her characteristic Mona Lisa smile. Perhaps Bernard had won their bet this year, but it was a concession Tony would gladly make, at least for now. Because maybe he was a shameless partying playboy with barely a moral fiber to hang a grain of rice by, but he was also smart enough to know Pepper was special.

And maybe, _just maybe_, he would change enough to deserve her someday. Something tingled in his bones, a sensation at the base of his spine, a premonition of unknown events to come. Something big, though he couldn't say just what. He couldn't exactly place his finger on it, but he just had this _feeling_ he couldn't quite shake, that _someday _might be soon.


End file.
